


Tangled

by Evergreene



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Humor, M/M, Nagron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evergreene/pseuds/Evergreene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron offers aid in braiding Nasir's hair. Things do not go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few pieces of Spartacus head-canon that I'm starting to write down, mainly to do with Agron and Nasir, of which this is the first. I hope you enjoy!

Nasir let out a sound that lingered somewhere between a hiss and a curse as Agron’s fingers tugged at the dark strands of hair closest to his scalp, pulling his head back so he was forced to bare the pale skin of his throat to the early dawn light that entered their shared quarters through a slit in the cloth walls.

Behind him, Agron uttered his own curse, and Nasir heard him growl a soft ‘ _fuck’_ as he struggled fruitlessly to free his fingers from the snarled nest of knots that had once been Nasir’s hair. His attempts were in vain, though, and Nasir found himself gritting his teeth as Agron yanked yet again at the ink-dark strands, this time so hard that Nasir could feel the muscles in his neck straining painfully as he fought to hold his head unmoving from his seat on the edge of their sleeping pallet, with Agron poised on his knees, pressed close against his back.

‘Is it possible you are forever trapped?’ he asked, clenching his fists so hard that his nails bit into his palms as Agron yanked on his hair yet again.

Agron did not answer and Nasir felt a ripple of fear stir deep in his gut. Uneasily, he twisted around, trying in vain to look behind him. ‘Naevia once broke words of the braids you wore in the ludus of Batiatus,’ he said, with a forced attempt at lightness. ‘I believed you held some skill in task, else I would not have requested aid.’

The pressure on his scalp eased as Agron paused to let out a sharp snort. ‘It was Duro who stood skilled in such matters, not I. And even he would have faltered when attempting battle with this fucking rat’s nest. Was your hair made of snakes it might prove easier to braid!’

Stung, Nasir drove an elbow back into Agron’s strong thigh so that he grunted in pain. ‘My hair is absent fault!’ he retorted. ‘Perhaps you would have done best to hold tongue rather than offering aid in what it becomes clear you cannot do!’

‘Alexander of Macedon himself would have puzzled over how to master such a knot,’ Agron snapped. His hands in Nasir’s hair, which had begun to resume their work, stilled. ‘Which brings remedy to mind. Lend knife to hand.’

Panic flaring sharp and bright within him, Nasir instinctively tried to jerk away, only to find himself tethered tightly to Agron’s long fingers by the snarled mess of his hair. ‘Put knife from mind,’ he threatened, all too aware of his vulnerable position, ‘or find it at own throat!’

There was a disgruntled sigh from behind him and Nasir felt the hands in his hair begin to move once more at the back of his head as Agron resumed his task of untangling the long strands that had become so impossibly caught and snarled around his calloused fingers as he had attempted to form the usual half-braid that Nasir wore.

Nasir released his own sigh. ‘Apologies,’ he muttered, letting his shoulders slump. ‘Intent was not to place blame so squarely on your shoulders. You do me favour in offering aid.’

Again Agron’s hands paused and Nasir felt the gentle press of lips at the crown of his head. Soothed, he let himself lean back, enjoying the warm weight of Agron’s thighs and stomach, only to tense again as Agron uttered the very words he had been hoping not to hear.

‘Why did you not attempt braid yourself?’

Nasir felt a blush creep upon his cheeks. He remained silent, only to have Agron ask again, his voice questioning. ‘Nasir?’

Nasir grimaced. He did not wish to lie so he had no choice but to give answer. ‘You do not stand alone in being absent skill for such task,’ he admitted reluctantly.

He could feel Agron still behind him. Then long, powerful fingers closed gently about the nape of his neck, just as a wolf bitch might grasp her pup.

‘You cannot mean-’ came the disbelieving words.

‘It is not for lack of attempt,’ Nasir muttered, his embarrassment turning to edginess as he squirmed out of Agron’s grip. He could feel Agron’s eyes on him, waiting silently, and he finally uttered the words he had never before admitted to another. ‘My every effort goes ill. The braid is not straight, or one side stands too thick, or-’

The pallet began to shake beneath him, and Nasir halted mid-rant. ‘You laugh?’ he demanded.

‘Thought would never cross mind,’ came Agron’s quick response, yet his voice was thick with suppressed mirth.

Nasir was about to respond when Agron let out a triumphant exclamation and pulled back, his hands finally falling free of Nasir’s hair.

Nasir immediately straightened, his shoulders rigid in his excitement. ‘You have succeeded in task?’

‘Was there ever cause for doubt?’

Nasir reached an eager hand up to the back of his head, only to find his hair a solid, matted nest of labyrinthine tangles, broken only by single strands that frizzed upwards, climbing every which way in their attempt to free themselves of his head. Disbelieving, he twisted round to look at Agron, who had collapsed backwards on the pallet with his arms and legs splayed out every which way over the blankets, projecting a pointed exhaustion with his every part. ‘Is this fucking jest?’ he demanded, his fingers teasing at the clumped knots to no avail. ‘This is no braid.’

‘Nor shall it ever be by my hand,’ declared Agron, not bothering to lift his head from its pillow of a tightly-rolled cloak. ‘I would rather fight as gladiator a thousand times that attempt again that fucking plait.’

Nasir tried to run his fingers through his hair, only to find them as neatly ensnared as Agron’s had been. Struggling to withdraw them, he looked to Agron, who had closed his eyes and appeared lost to slumber. ‘I cannot go as such about camp!’ He knew he sounded plaintive, but found he did not much care.

Agron cracked an eye open the barest amount. ‘My advice then is to find another to assist in task,’ he said with a lazy shrug. ‘Who usually submits to such torture?’

Nasir scowled at him as he endeavoured to separate a particularly devious knot that had formed around his smallest finger. ‘Aid is often given by Mira,’ he said shortly. ‘Yet she stands occupied elsewhere this morning.’

‘And so you asked for my help,’ said Agron, nodding. ‘What of Naevia? Put question to her.’

‘She spars with Crixus.’

‘And that is of import?’

Nasir raised an eyebrow. ‘You would have me make such request with Crixus standing near?’

Agron lifted his chin, acknowledging Nasir’s point. He then grinned widely, his teeth gleaming white and bright in the dim light of dawn. ‘What of Lugo?’

Nasir glared at him yet swiftly decided he must seek revenge at a later point, suddenly aware of his need to find remedy for his problem before more of the rebels awoke from their beds. Dropping his hands to his side, he rose from his seat on the pallet and made for the door, which was no more than the gap between two hanging cloths through which early sunlight beckoned. Just before he left, he paused, one hand resting against the cloth wall. ‘I begin to agree with Crixus,’ he stated simply, watching as Agron pushed himself up onto one arm to see him leave.

Agron’s face became wary. ‘In what regard?’ he asked edgily.

Nasir cleaved aside the cloth with the flat of his arm. ‘In that those from lands east of the Rhine stand as fucking idiots!’ he threw back over his shoulder, and strode out with Agron’s chuckles echoing behind him.

\--------------------

Nasir muttered a string of increasingly violent curses as he twisted his arms awkwardly behind his head, struggling to create a vaguely neat braid with the tangle that Agron had left him. Yet, as always, his every attempt went awry and he was left clutching a lopsided handful of dark strands as his other hand plucked clumsily at a black leather tie he had seized from the rebels’ stores.

He was caught off guard when a hand appeared around the side of the secluded supply tent in which he had hidden himself in an attempt at privacy. It was followed quickly by the muscular form and thick blonde mane of one of the rebellion’s most recent recruits. 

‘Gannicus,’ he said abruptly, springing up from his seat on a large wooden chest bound with wide strips of dried leather. ‘Company is unexpected.’

Gannicus raised the large flagon he held in a mock toast. ‘The day stretches long and tiresome ahead of us,’ he said lazily. ‘I seek to hasten it.’

Nasir nodded at him and offered a slight smile, shifting somewhat awkwardly on his feet. He had spent little time in the new gladiator’s company and did not know quite how to act around him. He was not like Agron, nor Crixus, whose tempers were ever bubbling near the surface, but nor was he like Spartacus, whose level demeanour spoke of hard-won control and a civility that hid great passion. Gannicus, rather, was blunt and to the point, and was not afraid to say what he thought. More so, he held great vivacity for life to which Nasir had found himself quickly warming.

He noticed that Gannicus was looking at him strangely and realised that he still had one hand suspended high, gathered about his hair. Hastily, he dropped his hand to his side, clearing his throat.

‘Intent was not to disturb,’ Gannicus remarked, with a hint of a tiger’s grin beginning to play on his face.

‘You do not. I merely sought privacy to…ah…to-’ Nasir trailed off. Gannicus was looking at him knowingly, switching his gaze between the mess of hair that fell to his shoulders and the tie he clutched so awkwardly. Nasir smiled ruefully, knowing he had been caught out. ‘Apologies,’ he said. ‘I am found off-guard.’

Gannicus grinned back at him. ‘Feeling known well by all.’ He lifted his chin towards Nasir. ‘Perhaps I can offer aid?’

Nasir shook his head. ‘Gratitude,’ he said, ‘yet I do not think-’

But Gannicus nodded at the leather-bound chest on which Nasir had been resting. ‘Sit,’ he said easily.

Nasir hesitated. Gannicus, however, set down the flagon he had been holding and moved around to stand behind the chest. ‘Sit,’ he urged again.

Uneasily, Nasir lowered himself down. Almost before he had come to rest upon the chest’s broad surface, Gannicus’ fingers were in his hair, running through it smooth and sure, his touch deft and nimble. Within moments, Nasir felt his hair becoming soft and silken so that it parted easily to the touch, a far cry from the tangled nest it had been under his own efforts and those of Agron. Before he quite knew what was happening, Gannicus had taken the tie from him and had begun to part and style his hair, drawing half back towards the crown of his head and fixing it there.

Nasir could not help but shake his head in amazement, only to have Gannicus murmur a soft word of discouragement until he had stilled once more. ‘Where did you learn such a thing?’ he asked in wonder.

‘I have worn my hair long and in similar style for many years,’ Gannicus replied, positioning Nasir’s head with his fingers as he continued his work. ‘Skill has come with practice. Surely you are of similar talents.’

‘I am afraid they lie elsewhere,’ Nasir admitted, feeling a blush stain his cheeks. ‘It has forever been my greatest curse.’

‘Make effort to teach Agron this skill and find yourself never again in need. Or have lessons already gone ill this morning?’

Hearing the knowing laughter in Gannicus’ voice, Nasir echoed it with his own chuckle. ‘Agron is skilled in much, yet this lies outside his reach,’ he admitted. ‘Discovery already made to my misfortune.’

‘Proper skill in such task has proved the downfall of many, man and woman both. You are fortunate I stumbled upon you this morning.’

Nasir nodded, then stilled as Gannicus chastised him for his movement a second time. They fell to companionable silence and, in no time at all, Gannicus had finished and had stepped back from behind the chest, going in search of his drink.

Carefully, Nasir reached up a hand to his hair and patted it gingerly, unsure of quite what he would find. He was amazed to discover that his hair had been woven into neat, careful twists and delicate braids that looped over, under and around each other before coming together to meet at one central point at the very back of his head, forming the most intricate style Nasir had ever worn, including in his days as a favoured body slave. Almost disbelieving, Nasir ran the very tips of his fingers over the style, then looked up meet the gaze of Gannicus, who wore a smug grin as he watched Nasir, his flagon back in hand.  

‘Gratitude,’ he said appreciatively.

Gannicus nodded. ‘It was no trouble.’

‘I would offer payment-’

Gannicus raised a hand in protest. ‘Do not be foolish. I ask none. Only that no word of this passes lips.’

Gaining his feet, Nasir raised an eyebrow. ‘You fear it would harm reputation?’

‘More that my services would be in such demand about camp that I would come to lack time for battle.’

Nasir laughed. ‘My lips remain sealed,’ he promised with a solemn bow, and he left the tent in a far better mood than he had entered.

\---------------

‘Why will you not tell me who you recruited to purpose?’

Ignoring Agron, who stood close behind him as he examined his hair with tentative, probing fingers, Nasir continued pulling on his armour as he prepared for the day’s training. He had already lost much time that morning and was reluctant to linger any longer. ‘I stand sworn to secrecy,’ he told Agron firmly as he secured a belt buckle around his waist. ‘No word may pass my lips.’

‘Was it Mira? Naevia? Saxa?’

‘Why do you assume it was a woman?’

‘Because you have every woman in the entire camp wound about fucking finger!’ Agron retorted. ‘And most of the men are not far behind!’

Nasir smiled mischievously. ‘Perhaps it was a man then,’ he suggested innocently. He grinned as Agron let out a frustrated growl, and moved over to the side of the tent to don his arm guards. About to put the first one on, he found it snatched abruptly from his grasp by Agron, who hastened to seize his wrist as well.

‘Tell me,’ Agron demanded, glaring down at him from his greater height. ‘Or find yourself forever absent guard.’

Nasir shrugged. ‘I will find another.’

Agron glowered at him. The next moment, however, his eyes gleamed and he lifted Nasir’s wrist to his mouth, beginning to nuzzle at it softly.  ‘Share knowledge,’ he murmured, ‘or have it taken.’

Nasir tried to pull his arm back, but Agron held it strongly in his grasp and started to mouth kisses down the sensitive, yielding skin.

‘Share knowledge,’ he murmured more persuasively, ‘and I will bring you to heights from which you will never wish to descend.’

Nasir hissed as Agron drew him in against his body and began pressing soft, suckling kisses to his mouth, then his chin, then to the underside of his jaw. ‘You have no honour,’ he accused him, doing his best to turn away.

Agron did not pause in his ministrations. ‘Not in this.’

Nasir drew in a breath as Agron’s lips touched briefly on his neck before the sharp nip of his teeth echoed in close wake. He could feel his blood begin to pound, and knew he stood little chance of resisting Agron when his lover was in this mood.

‘Share knowledge,’ Agron said again, whispering the words like a lover’s caress.

Nasir shook his head reluctantly, but one of Agron’s hands drifted down lower and Nasir knew he was beaten as Agron’s fingers found their target.

‘Gannicus,’ he hissed. ‘It was Gannicus.’

Agron immediately straightened and his hands, to Nasir’s dismay, immediately dropped from their task. ‘Gannicus?’ he repeated dangerously.

Noting the jealous glint in Agron’s eyes, Nasir made sure to stifle such sentiment before it could gain any sort of foolish purchase. ‘Agron, he offered friendship. Nothing more or less. A favour from one familiar with similar difficulties and who prefers the company of women.’

Agron relaxed. ‘Indeed.’

‘You must tell no one of this,’ Nasir warned. ‘Nor even give hint to Gannicus himself.’

‘Not a word will pass from lips.’

‘And you must resume task. With haste.’

Agron’s eyes dropped downwards, then flicked back up to Nasir’s still-flushed face. He smiled, wolf-like, and wrapped his fingers around Nasir’s wrist, bringing it once again to his mouth. ‘I live but to obey.’

\--------------------

_Some days later…_

‘Agron! I would share words.’

Agron and Nasir broke as one from their sparring and turned towards Spartacus‘ barked order. Agron raised his eyebrows, asking silently if Nasir knew why Spartacus was displeased with him, and Nasir shrugged back, unsure for once as he pushed back strands of his hair that had fallen loose from the effort of their activity. Together they waited for Spartacus to approach fully, Nasir lingering back a little, unsure whether this was a discussion between friends or between leaders of a rebellion.

Confusion soon cleared as Spartacus gave him an approving nod as he drew near. ‘You may stay, Nasir,’ he said firmly. ‘You may perhaps offer insight in this matter.’

Nasir nodded, relaxing. In contrast, Agron’s shoulders and body tensed as though he prepared for a fight. It was widely known throughout camp that Spartacus did not always agree with Agron’s methods of dealing with certain situations, particularly those involving Crixus, and did not hold back when choosing to make those feelings known. This time, though, Nasir could not think of what Agron had done to provoke the stern frown on Spartacus’ face. Within moments of listening to Spartacus, however, a similar frown had appeared on his own.

‘Gannicus has of late broken words with me,’ Spartacus said, fixing Agron with an eagle-hard gaze. ‘He makes comment that your eyes fall upon him most strangely.’

Agron shrugged. ‘I admire his technique in battle. Is that fucking crime?’

‘Not at all. Yet he claims you appear near laughter whenever he is about.’

His mind quickly making the connection between Gannicus’s presence and Agron’s amusement, Nasir swore fiercely under his breath, only saved from Spartacus’s sharp inquiry by Agron stepping quickly before him, shielding him from vision with his greater height. Nasir immediately took advantage of such cover to kick Agron violently on the ankle.

‘I cannot think why he would accuse me of such,’ Agron answered through teeth that were gritted in pain.

Spartacus’ eyes flicked around Agron to Nasir, who did his best to school his expression before emerging from behind Agron once more.

Apparently seeing nothing that aroused his suspicious, Spartacus focused back on Agron. ‘I would have Gannicus at his ease,’ he stated. ‘His many talents are of great value to all in the rebellion.’

‘To some more than others,’ Agron replied, completely deadpan, though Nasir was not fool enough to think that Agron’s arm brushing against his at that very moment was an accident. In retribution, he drove his elbow solidly into Agron’s ribs, causing Agron to grunt loudly in pain and Spartacus to eye them both in confusion.

‘Can I place trust, Agron, that you will leave Gannicus well enough alone?’

‘You have my word,’ Agron replied shortly, with a quick duck of his head. ‘Though I cannot speak for all present.’

Nasir stamped on his foot soundlessly, only to find himself almost impressed at how Agron’s expression barely changed despite the amount of pain he was surely in.

Spartacus narrowed his eyes at them both, but nodded nevertheless and moved on, no doubt too busy to question them any further in spite of the strangeness of their behaviour. As soon as he had gone from sight, Nasir turned on Agron. ‘You swore you would not tell!’ he hissed furiously.

‘And no word has passed lips!’

‘Yet you appear near laughter whenever your eyes fall upon him?’

‘It is not my intent,’ Agron said defensively.

Nasir glared at him, another thought stirring in his mind. ‘Am I to suppose you laugh because it is a man who bears skill in such a thing?’

Agron looked vaguely offended. ‘Not so. I laugh because it is _Gannicus_.’

About to launch into a lecture, Nasir was forced to subside. He still glared at Agron though, who merely raised an eyebrow at him and reached out a hand to push aside several strands of hair that had fallen free of Nasir’s intricate half-braid.

Nasir frowned and reached up his own hand to feel at his hair. ‘Shit,’ he muttered to himself. He looked up at Agron. ‘Apologies, I must go.’

Agron frowned. ‘We were not yet finished training-’

Nasir nodded. ‘Yet I must find Gannicus. He attempted new technique this morning and it fails to remain secure. We agreed that I would share such knowledge.’

‘But-’

‘Again, apologies!’ Nasir pressed his sword into Agron’s hand then, after stretching up for one last kiss, turned and hastened away, leaving Agron staring after him with a mixture of helplessness and discontent.

‘Every fucking day,’ he murmured under his breath disconsolately. He shook his head. ‘It appears I shall soon need to learn skills in braiding to rival those of Gannicus.’ With a heavy sigh, he hefted the weight of Nasir’s sword in his hand, then paused and ran his fingers slowly along its long grip. He eyed it thoughtfully. ‘Or else,’ he murmured, ‘perhaps hands used in other ways could provide sufficient temptation for my wild little dog.’

Grinning, he threw the blade into the air and caught it by the grip, certain that his new skills, once perfected, would bring both he and Nasir the greatest of satisfactions.

End


End file.
